Brothers In Arms
by Sorceress Cassandra180
Summary: A deadly crime wave has two cities under a seige. Now, two dangerous cops have to settle their difference and solve the case, or the next victims will be them…
1. DEADLY CRIME WAVE

**BROTHERS IN ARMS **

_**A TRUE CRIME/ **__**DEAD TO RIGHTS STORY**_

By Sorceress Cassandra 180

Mostlybased off an idea by ShadowHawk

**Disclaimer-** I know it sucks but Activision owns Nick Kang, the EOD and all the True Crime Characters, and Namco owns Jack Slate, Shadow, Grant City, and all the Dead to Rights Characters. So _please_ don'tcome after me with tourches and pitchforks(Already had it happen more than once this month it's getting old). But I do own _some_ of the bad guys so no stealing!

**Author's Note**- From the request of a fellow writer I've decided to do a crossover between two (what humbly I believe to be) damn good games. It takes place after the Best Ending of True Crime: Streets of LA and before Dead to Rights and Dead to Rights II(when Jack was a cop). It will be in both Nick and Jack's Point of view as well as a Prologue and Epilogue by George (had to have him in this story, he's a cool guy in my opinion). There may be some Spanish, and Chinese words. As well as some martial arts terms, so be ready. There may be some offensive words, but please don't take it personal.

But besides that just sit back, relax, in case of emergency you know where the exit are, buckle your seat belt, the no smoking signs are on and enjoy.

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* * *

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"Adrenaline

Keeps me in the game

Adrenaline

You don't even feel the pain

Wilder than your wildest dreams

When your going to extremes

It takes

Adrenaline"

-_Gavin Rossdale, **Adrenaline**_

* * *

**PROLOUGE:**

**DEADLY CRIME WAVE**

In all my years on the force I come to learn one thing. When things happen they often come at you more than once. Good things, bad things, it doesn't really matter, both come at the same time. But on the force you learn to expect mostly the bad things. After all, almost all the worst scumbags rarely work alone. It's like a thug code or something. You could say this is what we where thinking when the next big crime wave hit LA. 

It at first started as a string of some pretty gruesome murders, then it slowly escalated to shootouts with cops, then bombings. What was interesting was the fact that there was no firm evidence that pointed to any suspects. Just some vague reports of men dressed allin black where filed.

It seemed as if new group of punks had come to town.

But then we received a strange message from awhile away. A message that said that LA wasn't the only city that had this deadly crime wave.

Grant City, had started to have the same, familiar crime wave.

Looked like the new punks had made an alliance with the thugs at Grant.

I guess that's the reason why Grant City sent their finest officer on the case, and the EOD had one of their best detective on it as well. Two men as different as they come.

Who knew the two would have to work together not just to solve the case but to survive.

And who knew that sometimes on the brink of solving another true crime,

You have to bring those responsible dead to rights.

_**-GEORGE**_

_**

* * *

** _

**A.N.**- Alright, I know it's not my best. I also know I've very late on posting this. But don't worry. It **will** get better.


	2. BALLROOM BLITZ

_**Author's Note- **Alright here's my first real chapter. It's pretty long and it took me (if you don't mind me saying) for-fuckin'-ever to write since I switch Point of Views at least five times and had dozens of writer's block on this one.Just a side note, by the way, all my POV switches are after the solid line_.

* * *

**1**

**BALLROOM BLITZ**

My name is Nicholas Kang Wilson (but just call me Nick Kang) and this has got to be the most guarded place I have ever infiltrated. I'm serious, it is. Course when it's in an abandoned warehouse, in downtown, with a group of cop killers, robbers and thugs what do you expect, right?

Hearing footsteps I stooped low to hide behind another trash Dumpster, as another guard walked past. For those who have not a clue in hell who I am let me give you a quick run though (everyone else can ignore the next paragraph if you want).

I'm half-Chinese with dark hair and dark eyes, and you'll usually see me on the streets wearing a pair of cargo pants of some kind, a T-shirt, and a tricked out jacket. I'm also a Elite Operations Division agent (EOD for short). In other words I'm a cop with special jurisdiction over the city of LA. Translation: If you try to kick my ass I'll kick yours and then take you to meet the boys in San Quentin.

I'm pretty sure George told you, basically, what has been going on. That the newest crime wave has been getting deadlier and deadlier by the day, with cops and innocent people being murdered, street shootouts, and those string of bombings. So far the EOD had just one lead: a scumbag named John "Big Jay" Bradford, the leader of a slimy thug group that hangs around the Southside. Witnesses have noticed him and his thugs nearby when there are bombings and shootouts.

My mission: to look around his hideout and see if I could find any heavy artillery that has been reported to be used in the shootouts, or any interesting bomb-like hardware, and if I couldn't find any of that to take him back to HQ and have a little "chat" with the scumbag.

But to do that I had to infiltrate the place since they seem to have a special password and hand sign to get in (I couldn't catch the password so I figured I might as well sneak in). This would not be as bad if it weren't for the fact the thugs seemed to be (how should I put it?) very _damn paranoid_.

I peeked up to see the thug in a hoodie and Converse standing there smoking what, at first, looked like a cigarette if it weren't for the fact it had that all too familiar gut wrenching smell to it.

_This guy has got to be higher than a **friggen kite** if he's been smoking that thing for as long as I think he has, _I couldn't help but think.

I quietly pulled out my tranquilizer gun that I had in my jacket and loaded a red dart into the chamber and put a silencer on the end of the barrel.

_Well, at least he won't be able to feel this._

I peered around from behind the dumpster, aimed the gun at the punks back and pulled the trigger. He yelled out, "Son of a …!" when the dart hit him right between the shoulder blades. Then he fell to the asphalt ground with a _thump!_

_That's why you don't smoke that shit on guard duty._

I then crept forward and leaned against a wall. I could hear a dog barking nearby but I thought nothing about it, after all this _was_ downtown. I sidestepped as quietly as I could to the nearby corner. One quick peek around it I could see another guard, standing in wait.

I took a deep breath. Then I quickly crept around the corner ran up behind the thug and gave him a swift martial art's move that knocked him out and on to the ground.

_Didn't see me coming, did ya? _I thought with a grin.

I could hear voices and rap music grow louder and louder with each step I took. The back door had to be around here, somewhere.

It was then I could hear more footsteps. Quickly I did a flipping leap, behind a bunch of cardboard boxes, and ducked down until I heard the footsteps pass.

_Whew, that was too close_, I thought. I stood up and glanced over to my right to see the door that I had been looking for. I had stepped out from behind the load of boxes when suddenly the door opened and one of those thugs came out. They stopped dead when they saw me.

"Who _the fuck_ are you?" The thug asked quite frankly.

Not wasting time, I ran forward. With one hand I grabbed him from behind the neck and forced his head down, with the other I jerked his head as hard as I could, snapping his neck with a bone sickening _crack!_

_And **stay down!**_

Taking a few deep breaths, I put a hand inside my jacket; checking the holsters just for reassurance. I could feel the cool metal of my Desert Eagles there, loaded and ready.

_Well this should be interesting._

Boy, was I ever right.

* * *

My name is Jackson Slate, or you could call me Jack Slate if you like. 

I stood on the street corner, a hand in my pocket another running through my dark brown hair, my blue eyes lowered so anyone passing by would think that I was just some random guy on the street, walking home maybe. When I was really was surveying the place in front of me.

I knew was _way_ out of Grant City limits being in downtown Los Angeles. But I had to be here. There had been several incidents in Grant City that had the city in the gutter. Well, more in the gutter then it usually is anyway.

Lately there had been more Bombings, shooting, more gruesome murders than usual. So far the only lead that my station had was this group of goons that seemed to be around every time something went down.

So I personally decided to pay this group of goons a visit, and a shootout later I finally got a name from the thug: "Big Jay", and he usually hung out in a warehouse in 'The City of Angels".

After, a long talk with my boss, Chief Martel, I finally got permission to check out the claim. So here I was, standing on the street corner, in a pair of worn jeans a white muscle shirt and a brown leather jacket. Not exactly my type of "cop clothes" but what do you expect when your undercover?

I felt a slight brush past my pantleg. I didn't have to glance down to know who (or most likely _what_) it was.

"What took you so long Shadow?" I asked shaking my head. "Where you planning on scopeing out every park in the city?"

I looked down to see a gray, black, and white Husky at my side. It was none other than Shadow, my K-9 Partner that I myself had raised, and trained since he was just a pup. He gave a bark as if to answer my question (after having him as a partner for awhile I'm sure he _was_ answering me).

I shook my head an looked back to the warehouse.

According to "Little D", my "informant" from Grant City. I would need a password and the salute to get in, luckily after several hours of _convincing_ I finally got both. Which was more than good, my Chief didn't really want me to notify the local authorities, well until I knew what I was dealing with.

So me and Shadow where on our own, for now.

I bent my knees so I was at Shadow's level. Scratching him slightly behind the ears, I looked at him square in the eye.

"You know what to do, boy," I told him.

He wagged his tail and then disappeared in to the darkness of a nearby alleyway. I gave a slight smile at that, and turned to the goon warehouse.

Putting my hands into my pockets I walked to the front door, where a lone thug in baggy pants, a muscle shirt and barbed wire tattoos stood on guard. I gave him the hand signal (a three fingered salute).

"An' the password?" He grunted (I had a feeling he wasn't the intelligent type).

"Shark," I muttered.

He looked at me up and down then finally nodded, and banged his knuckles three times on the hardwood door which opened instantly. I then took a quick glance to the nearby shadows, where I could swear I saw a flash of steely cold blue eyes staring at me, non-blinkingly.

Knowing that my "back-up" was lying in wait I walked into the warehouse.

* * *

_Nick Kang_

I walked in to the place, pretending to just be another one of the scumbags from off the street. After a quick glance around I could see that the warehouse looked like one of those underground clubs. You know, the one that advertises by word of mouth.

Flashing stage lights hung from the ceiling, giving the rusty warehouse a strange feel; a feel like anything could happen. A bar stood along the far back wall. Meanwhile a DJ and his turntables stood along the right wall, playing a earsplitting mixture of rap and techno music that pounded in the air.

I could see a large throng of people on the floor below, as well as on some of the scaffolding above.

From my past experiences with "Big Jay" (and there have been a few), I knew a few useful things:

1. When he travels he usually doesn't do it alone.

2.If he is alone, he'll have some pretty big hardware with him

And 3. If you want to find him you'll usually have to find one of his boys.

So with this useful information I walked out on to the dance floor.

Luckily, to find one of his boys I wouldn't have to look far. From a distance I could see Darrel, "The Garbageman" as they called him was nearby the bar. I walked to him, but as I did I whammed my shoulder pretty hard into the back of (what I had guessed to be) one of the nearby street thugs who was wearing a leather jacket and worn jeans.

"Sorry, Man" I said as I saw him stumble forward a bit.

I guess I was expecting the man to be some biker punk cause of the leather jacket, an angry voice saying 'Watch where your going, Asshole!'. Maybe even a punch thrown at me if the guy was having a bad day. But as he turned around I noticed something right off the bat.

He didn't look like any biker I've ever seen, his brown hair was not in a 'do rag but slicked foreword, he wasn't wearing chains around his neck, and he definitely didn't have a beard on his chin. He had to around my height, with blue eyes, and had the same build as I did. He looked pretty much like a typical guy walking the streets.

"Hey, Don't worry," He said. "I didn't see ya there."

I cocked an eyebrow. It was one thing for this thug to look like and average man, but another for him to be polite when **_I _**rammed my shoulder into him. But I couldn't ask questions, I had a scumbag to interrogate.

So, I walked over to the bar as quickly as I could. Trying not to draw too much attention to myself… Well, until I had reached Darrel.

He was wearing camouflage print pants, with a black muscle shirt that showed off his many tattoo's, and a visor the was upside down and pushed to the side. He also wore a load of sliver chains around his thick neck.

Darrel just sat at the bar when I crept up behind him, grabbed him from behind his head and _WHAMMED_ his head against the bar, making a few people stare. As he winced, I pulled him up by his scalp saying, "Yo Garbageman, I've got some trash I need you to take out."

"Nick?" He spoke suddenly, recognizing my voice. "Damn, dog, you scared the hell out of me."

"Really? Good, now tell me where Big Jay is."

"Aw man, you know I can't do that-."

"Well tough rocks pal," I replied.

Then I _WHAMMED_ his head against the bar again. I had pulled his head up and was about to ask again when there was the sound of foot steps. I looked up to see the barkeep in a white muscle shirt, black pants, with thick tattooed arms and a shaven head.

"Can I get you anything sir?" He asked me, only mildly curious.

"Yeah I'll take a Bourbon, straight up," I said as I slammed Darrel's head against the bar again.

The barkeep turned around and poured the drink into a clear glass. He sat it down as I pulled Darrel's head up off the bar.

"Look _Pig_," Darrel said wincing. "You know I can't rat out on one of my homies."

"You're not ratting out," I told him grabbing my drink. "I just need to ask Big Jay why his crew has a habit of turning up at the latest bombings. Now where is he?"

"Man you know-".

I took the glass up to my mouth with one hand and carefully slammed Darrel's head against the bar with the other.

I could hear a muffled noise from Darrel's mouth that sounded like, "OKAY! OKAY!".

I sat my drink down and pulled him up.

"Well?" I asked expectantly

"He's upstairs you, crazy Mofo!" Darrel proclaimed.

I grinned satisfied, quickly I pulled out my wallet grabbed a few bills and sat them on the bar for the drink.

"Atta boy," I complimented, before I whammed his head one last time against the bar.

But as I turned to leave I could see that same guy the I had run into just a few minutes ago standing there not just three feet away, listening to everything that Darrel said. The man gave me a hard, calculating look, a look that gave me a really creepy feeling. I stepped foreword to ask what the hell was this guy's problem, when suddenly several people passed between us going to the bar.

After the people passed I could see that the man had gone.

_Something tells me, I'm not the only one looking for Big Jay_

* * *

_Jack Slate_

_Great, this is just great,_ I thought as I pushed my way through the dancers. _First, I leave Grant City after a lead in LA. Then I find that I'm not the only one after him, now I think there may be someone after **me**._

I glanced over my shoulder to see if that dark hared, Asian-looking guy was behind me. I couldn't see him but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was following me. He looked pretty steamed when he saw that I had overheard him interrogate that one goon as he slammed him head so hard against the bar that I was sure that he'd be feeling it tomorrow.

How did that man know Big Jay? And why the hell was he after him, anyway?

I went to the iron staircase, when I felt that familiar feeling. That someone was watching me. I turned to see that _guy _was not that far behind me. Suddenly in a flash of a strobe light, he had vanished.

I had a mind to look around for him, find him, and give him a piece of my mind but I knew that it wouldn't be smart. I had a job to do.

And my first priority of that job was to get all these people out of here since I had my usual gut feeling that things where gonna get pretty rough. I looked around for something that I could use that wouldn't cause too much of a riot. Anything I could use.

It was then I saw it, a fire sprinkler not to high above my head. It looked a bit rusty but otherwise in good condition. I just hoped it would still work.

I reached into my pocket, looking for something. Found it.

Quickly, I pulled out a matchbox that I had in my pocket from the last big bar brawl that I had been called to take care of a few night's back. I pulled out a match, and striked it against the wall. Instantly the match caught aflame. I lifted it up to the sprinkler.

First the alarm went off, then the sprinkler system kicked in. In series of squeaking noises, and rusty brown water came pouring down. Almost, as soon as the water came down there was the sound of people yelling in surprise. I glanced over to see them running for the door. _Good_, _I don't have to worry about them anymore._

It was then I heard a cry of voices, one of them yelling, "AW SHIT! IT'S THAT DAMN COP! HE'S HERE!"

_Dammit!_

I swung around to see several goons running down the stairs, Berettas in their hands. They turned to me aiming their guns. Adrenaline, rushing through my veins like some sort of drug, I turned to these men, and leapt off the stairs and out of the way. Once on the dance floor, I quickly took cover behind a table that had been turned onto it's side in all this mess. Quickly, I pulled out the two Colt .45's that I had in my jacket.

"Company's comin', here we go," I muttered.

I leapt out of my cover, aiming at two of the goons. Before they could start shooting at me, I shot at them first. And it didn't take long for them to soon lay dead on the ground.

As soon as I hit the, now wet, floor I did a side-roll to my feet, avoiding bullets. I then aimed and fired at the remaining goons to finish them off. As I did I could swear, I heard the sounds of gunfire not to far away. In fact it had to be in the same building, strange thing was it wasn't me who was doing it.

At that moment a bunch of thugs from the opposite staircase came running down. Once they saw their pals laying dead on the floor and guns in my hands, they quickly realized that I wasn't you're typical street guy.

The ran foreword, shooting customized Desert Eagles, sawed off shotguns, and Berettas. I leapt back, narrowly missing bullets as I aimed fired at them. Making each one fall down, dead I guessed.

It was then a door in the back of the club opened, three thugs in hoodies, with AK-47's in hand burst in. Before I could compose myself from the last gunfight, they aimed at me. Like a automatic response, I started firing back, dodging bullets by moving around as fast I possibly could. I aimed and fired at two of them. As they fell to the ground I dived forward, firing at the last goon who was doing a pretty poor job of shooting me down.

When he pitched dead to the floor, I head a sudden barking of a dog somewhere behind the warehouse.

_Shadow must of found Big Jay!_

I turned for the door when I heard a _splash_ and a slight _thump_ behind me.

I swung around with my .45, as I did I found myself looking down the barrel of a I.M.I. 50 Desert Eagle, gleaming in the party lights. It's owner was a wet yet familiar looking Asian man.

I couldn't help but be slightly irritated. First the asshole chases me, now he's standing in the way of my only lead in this damn case.

"Get _the hell_ out of my way, Sir!" I demanded, not in the mood to shoot down another thug. "I'm Grant City Police, and I'm not in the mood to put another thug in a body-bag!"

The look on the man's face shifted for a short while when I told him I was a cop. But suddenly turned enraged.

"I'm not a thug, Jackass!" The Man yelled, his dark eyes ablaze. "I'm a Elite Operations Agent! Get _the hell _out of _my way!_"

_He's Elite Operations?_ But before I could demand him to flash his badge and he could even ask for mine, there was a loud _BAM_.

_Now what?_

* * *

_Nick Kang_

"Damn it!" I cursed under my breath.

Pushing through the throng of dancers, I glanced around looking for that man that had overheard me and Darrel having a "chat". It was then I found him, he seemed to be going up the stair case that led to the second floor.

_Who the hell is this guy? And why did I get that gut feeling that we where looking for the same shithead?_ I wondered.

The man stopped in the middle of the stair case and turned to look behind him.

_Shit, _gotta get away from here and fast! Who knows what that guy would do if he found out I was following him. Besides I had an asshole to catch, I just had to get there before that guy, or whoever _the hell_ he was, got there first.

I swung around to see another staircase, not far from the bar. Somehow, I managed to make it to that staircase in no time at all. I ran up it, dodging party goers as they went down to the dance floor. As soon as I made it to the second floor I scanned around through the number of punks, thugs, and gangster's, looking for one.

_Alright Big Jay, you Jackass, _I thought. _It's time to say hi to Nick Kang and his friends at the EOD._

It was then I saw him, dressed in a black and silver Oakland Raiders Jersey, along with black saggy cargo pants. There where several silver rings on his fingers, as well as sliver chains around his neck. His dark hair was cut short, and he had a bit of a goatee on his face. Around him was his usual assortment of thugs and scumbags, along with several pretty girls in tube top shirts and extremely short skirts.

At this I gave a smirk. _Please Big Jay, you could at least **try** to make this harder_ _for me._

But as I started toward Jay something happened. There was a sudden wail of a fire alarm, then in a series of squeaks the sprinkler system kicked in. People started screaming, running for the exit. Mean while I stayed and swung around looking for the sire. Strange, I didn't see any fire, and I didn't smell anything burning.

I turned back to Big Jay. He and his posse of assholes where making their way to the staircase. Him in the lead

"Goddamn it, Man!" He yelled. "These threads are dry clean only."

In a gutsy move, I run up behind then, and did a flipping leap over the crew landing on my feet before them.

"Trust me, Jay," I said pulling out my gun and pointed it at him as he paused at my sudden appearance. "That's the least of your worries."

It took a few seconds for Jay to realize who it was standing before he realized who I was.

"AW SHIT!" He exclaimed. "IT'S THAT DAMN COP! HE'S HERE!"

As soon as he yelled out the words, his "homies" took action. A few of them reached for guns while Big Jay quickly ran back behind him, his girls running with him

I leapt forward, pulling out my other Desert Eagle. Firing at his homies. I took two down with the first round, before I had to leap to the side, taking quick cover behind a couch, quickly reloading. As I changed clips I could faintly hear gunshots from below, but I decided I'd worry about them later. I leapt out from behind the couch shooting at Big Jay's crew, making some pretty close shaves. Several more fell down dead, this time. And I could also just see Big Jay go to a window of the old warehouse, and window that led to the fire escape.

_Damn it!_ I had to get out there or I would lose him.

In a rushed hurry I shot at the last remaining goons, when they fell to the floor, dead or neutralized (I was in a hurry I couldn't tell how many where dead or not). I ran to the side of the scaffold. If Big Jay was outside by now, then I wouldn't have any trouble using the back door to catch up with him in the alley. In a bit of reckless daring, I ran and leapt off the scaffold. It wasn't a long drop, but my legs still felt a strain went my boots hit the floor.

I made a _splash_ and a thump as I landed on my feet. I had enough time to see that I had landed just behind someone. Thinking it was another member of Jay's Crew I raised my gun to point at his head, meanwhile the man swung around and put his gleaming Colt .45 in my face.

_It was that one guy I had seen earlier!_

Damn, he looked pissed when he looked down his gun barrel at my face.

"Get _the hell_ out of my way, Sir!" He demanded, as if he where annoyed that I had showed up. "I'm Grant City Police, and I'm not in the mood to put another thug in a body-bag!"

I raised an eyebrow when he said he was a cop, but my surprise turned to anger as fast a NASCAR race on wet track.

"I'm not a thug, Jackass!" I yelled, pissed off. "I'm a Elite Operations Agent! Get _the hell_ out of _my_ way!"

That got him. He looked at me, stunned. He opened his mouth, as to (I guessed) ask me for my badge, and I was going to ask for him when there was a loud _BAM!_ For somewhere behind the building. Like a shotgun going off. Then it hit me.

_Big Jay!_

"Damn it!" Me and the Man across from me said in unison.

Both sort of forgetting about our showdown. We both took off for the backdoor. As soon as I yanked it open, we where met with the last sight we wanted to see.

Big Jay lay cold and dead. A large bloody hole in his back as if made with a sawed-off shotgun.

_Well, _I couldn't help but think. _Guess Big Jay isn't the man behind this after all._

* * *

_**A.N.- **I'd like to take this moment to thank my two first and awesome Reviewers: **animeaeris** and **MasklessDuckman**. You guys are the best!_


	3. NEW PARTNERS NEW LEADS

_**Author's Note-** Sorry for the tecnical diffuculty. My computer's been a pain, making me accidently delete things I've been sending to the internet. Luckly it's fixed now. A special thanks to Daydreamer731 for letting me barrow a word used in this chapter._

_Keep up the awesome work on your Constitine story!_

* * *

**2**

**NEW PARTNERS NEW LEADS**

_Jack Slate_

I glanced around the LAPD's bustling precinct, as I waited for a reply from the very interesting story that I had just told my Chief. After the showdown at Jay's the LAPD took me to their Precinct and asked me a few simple questions, then they told me to call my Chief. Which was all right, until I had to explain why I made the call.

It was then the silence that had been on the other end of the line shattered like a kid's baseball being thrown at a car window.

"You mean to tell me, that while you an this _Elite Operations Agent_ where having a _pissing contest _the one lead that we had on this case _gets shot in the back with an f'n shotgun!"_ Yelled Chief Martel's voice from the receiver.

I winced again for, probably, the twentieth time since I had made this impending phone call. I guess it was deserved though. After all, I blew it. But it wasn't _entirely_ my fault, since I had help from that _other_ _cop._

"Chief, I _told you_ that if we had notified the local authorities then we wouldn't have to worry about problems like this," I pointed out.

"Well we wouldn't have to worry about the local authorities if your pride hadn't gotten the better of you," Chief Martel snapped. "Now I've got Dick Hennessey's GAC Unit banging on my door, wanting a name here, Jack. If he finds out that this case is going south, well, we're both screwed."

I sighed. Trying to think up something, anything that could salvage this case and get us on the up n' up.

"Is there anyway you can contact the Chief of the Elite Operations, see if they have any new leads, and pull some strings?" I asked, quickly. "Whether you like it or not the local authorities are in on it this now. They also may know more than we do."

There was a short pause. Then a sigh.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'll see what I can do. We may get lucky, from what I hear LA isn't dong so well either," Chief Martel huffed. "Just as long as you find something useful enough to get Pinnacle out of my ass…"

"Thanks Chief," I said with a smile. "You know where to find me."

_Click._

I sighed and slumped into a nearby chair. As I did Shadow went up to my knees, nudging them slightly with a slight whimper.

"Yeah you better hope that Chief Martel comes up with something," I told him. "Or we _both_ might end up eating table scraps."

Shadow gave a slight bark, and laid down quietly at my feet. I shook my head at that. I glanced to my right to see an abounded copy of the _Los Angeles Times, _as soon as I picked it up several bold headlines on the front page caught my eye: **LAPD CASUALITES REACH RECORD HIGHS: _ANOTHER_ _POLICE OFFICER FOUND DEAD IN HIS HOME_, A SUDDEN SHOOTOUT CLAMS INNOCENT LIVES, BOMBING ROCKS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT.**

Hurriedly I skimmed through them all. Several sentences sticking out clearly in my mind.

... _Near retiring_ _Lt. Peterson was found murdered in his own home yesterday with no signs of struggle. Police say that it is almost as if the murderer had casually stopped for a visit…_

…_Masked men in tactical clothing where sighted minutes before a major shootout erupted outside the First Equity Bank. Eleven are reported dead, Twenty others wounded…_

… _Los Angeles International Airport is devastated as it's latest bombing kills both airport employees and ongoing travelers…_

Either I was going through a really bad case of Déjà vu, or this newest Crime wave in LA was just like…

There was a ringing from my pocket, quickly I pulled out my cell phone and put it up to my ear.

"This is Slate," I said.

"Alright," Said Chief Martel's exasperated voice. "It wasn't easy but I've got you a window. Head over to the Elite Operations Headquarters on the corner of 7th and Broadway. You and Shadow will get your instructions from there."

"Thanks," I said, getting up walking to the door, my K9 partner by my side. "I'll call you and tell you how it goes…"

* * *

_Nick Kang_

"You mean to tell me that the guy who stuck a gun in your face was a _Grant City Policeman, _and he thought that you where a _criminal? Really?_" Spoke a voice in a slight Spanish accent.

I groaned, more than just annoyed by this question. You be to if you had been asked about this _nineteen times_ in the last _15 minutes_. I turned to Rosie Velasquiez, my main Intel, who sat at her crome desk in her usual shirt-skirt-and jacket combo, her eyebrows raised, blue lined dark eyes looking at me questionably. Quickly I grabbed a pen off her desk and held it up like a knife.

"Rosie, if you ask me that one more _damn time…_" I with an edge in my voice. "I _swear _I'm going to stick this pen of yours right up your-."

"Okay! Okay!" Rosie said, holding her hands up. "I'm just trying to get the facts straight here. You don't have to assault me with office supplies, Nick."

I tossed the pen onto the desk with a sigh, and walked the side of Rosie's desk leaning partially against it.

"Do you have any new leads besides Jay?" Rosie asked.

"Nope," I replied, facing forward. "Any there wasn't any heat or bombs at the warehouse either. Several Special K and Ecstasy dealers where caught, but that's something the DEA can handle."

I tapped my fingers on Rosie's desk, thinking a bit. Then a thought came to me. I turned back to my partner.

"Just out of pure curiosity, check out the latest newspaper articles and Police Reports in Grant City," I told her. "Maybe they will say what the hell a cop from Northern California is doing all the way down here."

Rosie shrugged her shoulders, but swiveled the chair to face the computer on her desk. In no time at all Rosie was busy clicking away on the internet, while I stood there staring off into space. But my thoughts where soon interrupted when a black middle set women in a professional set of clothes caught my eye. She stopped when she reached Rosie's desk and crossed her arms giving me "The Look" that I knew all to well.

"Mornin' Chief," I said a bit sheepishly, when she gave me that look. "Having a good day so far?"

"Don't _even **start,**_ Nick," She said, her voice hard.

I could quickly see where this was heading. _Here we go, brace yourself Nick._

"Our _only_ lead gets killed, and we still have no clue whose behind this latest crime wave, and you mean to tell me that you lost your one chance to go after him because of _another **cop**_?"

The Chief had said it like a question, but you didn't have to be a dumbass to know what would happen if I answered it with a 'yes'. So I just stood there, expecting her to give me the short lecture that she had reserved for me (The Chief knows better than to give me the long one). I wasn't disappointed.

"Nick, I know that the man who got in your way was acting (as you have said many times) like an ass. But you should know better. You where there to do your job, not to have spitting tactic with another cop. At least _try_ to put your anger aside for a while."

"Chief, I _told you _I would have had him if it wasn't for that _son of **a**-._"

"Don't _**even**,_" The Chief said annoyed.

I rolled my eyes, but said nothing. I had enough respect for the Chief to _not _say anything.

"Besides what we really should be thinking about is why on earth is a Grant City Policeman in LA?"

"_Mera _Chief," Rosie spoke up suddenly, her tone a bit surprised. "You would be too if your city was facings shootouts, bombings, and murders."

We both turned to her.

"Uh Rosie," I said a bit awkwardly. "This is _Grant City _we're talking about. Anyone who visits that city says that people _aren't_ born there, their _made._ They also say the Fortunes are lost and found at that place on a daily basis, and if your not one of the lucky finders, your probably dead in a side alley somewhere."

"No it's no just that," Rosie said, shaking her head. "Their crime rate is raising to almost as high as ours, and look at this."

She gestured to the computer screen. Glancing at each other, the Chief and I leaned forward to see what she meant. Rosie the read aloud the part of the newspaper column that she had discovered.

" 'Detective Neal Cohen and his wife where found dead in the comfort of their own home. Police say that there was no sign of struggle. The next-door neighbor says she didn't hear anything strange, but she does say that she swears seeing-'."

"Wait-wait," I said stopping her, making both women turn to me. "Letmme guess: it was a figure in funny black clothing, and the police think that the murderer had just knocked on the door and strolled right in."

"Basically, _Sí,_" Rosie nodded.

_Score! Five Points!_

"But that's not all," Rosie said suddenly, scrolling down the page on her monitor. "Look at these other articles. There's one that talks about a bombing at a airport nearby Grant, and a shootout outside City Hall and they where reported to be wearing _the same black clothing as the murderer._"

I let out a low whistle, stepping back trying take this in. This was getting freakier by the minute.

"The Grant City Policeman must have found out about our friend Big Jay from a lead he got," The Chief said, putting our little mystery together. "Makes sense why he went all the way down here."

"But why didn't he come to us?" Asked Rosie. "It's against regulations not to alert us and besides, the cop would need help to take Jay down wouldn't he?"

"Not really," I commented, remembering all the thugs he had shot down at the club. "He seemed to hold his own pretty well."

"Maybe, but he should of alerted us _at least,_" The Chief said.

I wondered a bit on this. If I knew anything about the guy it was that in the short time I ran into that Asshole, he didn't strike me as the one to go against regulations, **_much_**. It was then I just thought of something. It was bad, but it seemed to jar.

"Unless he was told **not **to by his boss," I said in a low tone.

The Chief turned to me and nodded, Rosie looked over he shoulder and nodded too. At that moment there was the familiar sound of a phone ringing in a particular office upstairs.

"That must be the Grant City Police Chief," The Chief muttered, turning to the staircase.

"Speaking of the man we wanted to lay a smackdown on," I muttered.

Rosie and I watched the Chief walk in to her office, answer the black cordless phone, and shut the glass door. I'll just say this, glass doesn't muffle a person yelling very well, cause I swear I heard her saying words that she doesn't usually say (She seemed to use a few of my favorite ones, **_a lot_**). It wasn't 30 minutes (and several phone calls I think) later that the Chief came back downstairs.

"I've gotten us an opening," She said simply.

"_Really?_" I asked raising an eyebrow.

She nodded.

"It seems that one of the bombers from the Airport bombing was sighted in a house in Santa Monica. The LAPD have him surrounded, right now, and are waiting for us to get him out of there."

"Alright I'm on it," I said, about to pass her to go to the revolving door outta here.

Suddenly, she stepped in front of me, stopping me abruptly. I admit I was surprised at this. _She doesn't want me on the case anymore?_ I instantly thought. _**Jeez,** I knew she was mad, but not that mad._

I guess the Chief must of thought what I was thinking 'cause almost as soon after I thought it, she spoke up.

"Now, Nick, the Grant City Police Chief and I had a little chat, and we both agreed that both cities must have the same crime syndicate that's causing all this."

"_And?"_ I asked, waiting for the ball to drop.

"GCPD would feel a bit more _reassured_ if they had one of their own detectives on the case with you. And since there's… Well…"

At first I couldn't get it. What was the Chief having so much trouble spitting out? Then a sudden thought came to me like a punch in the gut.

_She had **got** to be **kidding**!_

Of all people, she should know what happens when I have a partner. And if she was telling me that I was going to partnered up with _that **guy…**_

"You _mean_ to _tell me_ that-!"

But before I could finish, a rather familiar man walked threw the door that got the Chief's attention.

I turned to see a particular looking man in a leather jacket with brownish black hair and blue eyes near the revolving doors. A Husky with the same steely blue eyes stood at his side.

_Aw Shit._

* * *

_Jack Slate_

As soon as the cab driver pulled up to the corner of 7th and Broadway. I couldn't help but think he had made some sort of mistake. The building on this corner didn't look like any Precinct I'd ever seen. It was made of tan granite and limestone, making me think it was a government building or a library. But it was then I saw carved above the door the words:

**E.O.D.**

**ELITE OPERATIONS DIVISION **

_**PROTECTING THE CITIZENS AND THE CITY OF LOS ANGELES**_

**_AT ALL COSTS_**

_Talk about high class,_ I couldn't help but think as I got out of the Taxi. Shadow stepping to my side. I looked down to him.

"I suggest you don't chew on anything in here, boy. I'm already on their bad side, and I don't think you want to be on that side with me," I told him.

He cocked his head, slightly as if taking this into consideration.

I strode up to the revolving door to see the headquarters of the famous EOD.

The first thing I noticed was how professional the place looked. Black carpet, small cubicle areas with crome desks, swivel chairs, and high tech computers, the latest pictures of LA's most wanted posted on a billboard next to the door. Glancing to the side I could see what looked like a second floor of some sort. Where, I guessed, the offices of the best detective must be.

_Nice place,_ I thought as I looked around. _Now to find the leader of this department._

I was just about to ask a person at a nearby desk where the chief was when at that exact moment a black women, fairly middle set, in a professional work suit strode up to me. She gave me the impression of a motherly type person. Kind and understanding, but firm, and no nonsensed as well.

"Are you Jackson Slate, Grant City Policeman and Detective?" She asked in a strong sure voice.

"Yep," I nodded, looking around. "Do you know where I can find Chief of Detectives, Wanda Parks?"

"You won't have to look far, Slate," She said suddenly, extending her hand. "You just did."

_She was Wanda Parks?_ I couldn't help but be a bit surprised at that. This was the women who had one handedly started one of the most controversial police division in LA? She had to be several decades older than me! But at that moment in her hard dark eyes could see the women that I had read about in several LA Newspapers.

"Oh, uh sorry about that," I said as I took her hand and shook it.

"Don't worry," She said in an understanding tone. "You're not the first to make that mistake Slate."

I nodded, feeling a bit better.

_Well, she seems alright_.

"It's just Jack, by the way," I told her, and motioned to my K9 partner. "And this is Shadow."

She smiled when she saw him.

"I know," She said, petting Shadow on the head. "I've read about some of the things you and this partner of yours have done. They've even come to call you the 'dynamic duo' if I remember correctly."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm just doing my job," I told her simply.

She nodded.

"And that's why, I'm told, the Chief sent you here," Chief Parks said. Motioning for me to follow her.

She led me past the row of desks. Which one in particular she wanted to go to was anyone's guess. But as we went through the rows she asked me a simple question.

"Do you know what the purpose of the EOD is, Jack?"

"I read that it was created to combat the extreme crime rate that has been coming into the city," I replied. "Sort of like our GAC unit."

"You read right, Jack," she said. "But unlike Hennessey's idea of a super SWAT team. The EOD is an independent branch of Police force complete with its own training in ammunitions, martial arts, and automobiles."

"I was also told that you also accept rehabbed gangsters as well," I said looking at several of the desk job employees

"Yes, we do. We're one of the few police forces that do as well. Former gangsters have experience and they know the street as well as any LA Policeman does. Not only that but they know what to expect from the scumbags they are sent to take down."

Chief Parks stopped at a desk near the back. At it sat a women with dark brown hair in a bun, eyes lined with eye shadow and a nice, yet casual, skirt, turtleneck shirt, and jacket. I could also see a man with dark hair nearby, leaning partially on the desk, but his back was to me so I couldn't see his face.

"Jack this is Rose Velasquiez, she is the member of one of our tops teams that you'll be working with," Chief Parks said.

"You should say the main _Intel _to the top team that he'll be working with, Chief," Rosie corrected. I quickly caught her accent slightly, my guess was she was Latin American.

"Ever since that first assignment with the _partner_ you gave me."

I could swear I heard the man give a slight chuckle at this, but he still didn't turn to face me.

"Got stuck with one of those partners, huh?" I asked.

"Sorta of, I originally thought he was _loco_," Rosie shrugged. "But after awhile you get used to it."

"Rosie's also one of our rehabilitated officers," Chief Parks also said.

I turn to Rosie.

"You where a _gangbanger?_" I couldn't help but say, shocked.

"Once," She replied. "When you grow up in _Latino_ gang territory, and almost half of your family is living _la vida,_ it's almost natural to get jumped into a gang or two."

I cocked an eyebrow. For some reason I couldn't imagine Rosie as a homegirl. But she seemed to have a way to her, like she had seen more than I can imagine. It was then something the Chief said hit me.

"Wait," I said turning to Chief Parks. "You said I'll be working with her and her Partner…"

"Yes, it' was something that your chief and I discussed." Chief Parks nodded, I noticed she seemed to look a bit … Awkward, glancing to the man leaning against the desk.

"I see," I said. "So when will I meet the other half of the team?"

"You already did, _Slate_," spoke a sudden deep voice in a such a confident tone it was damn near arrogant, a voice that I couldn't help but feel like I had heard… somewhere before.

I turned to the man who had his back to us through the whole conversation. He seemed to know that we where staring at him, since he suddenly stood up and turned around as if he was one of those gung-ho action heroes.

His dark hair was slicked back, he dark eyes where piercing. He may have been wearing a different pair of cargo pants, a different T-shirt, and a different jacket then the other night but I recognized him just the same.

_It was that Asian cop that I had met at Big Jay's club._

At once my blood almost ran cold.

"_You…_" was all I could say when I saw him.

"Yeah I'm me, Slate, and 'Hello' to you to, by the way," He said, he seemed about as happy to see me as I was to see him. "Twice we've run into each other in the last twenty-four hours, it must be our lucky day, huh?"

"Nick," The Chief said warningly. "Don't start."

The man stopped, but still looked at me with accusing eyes, while I glared at him.

"This is Nick Kang, Jack," Chief Parks said, looking back and forth from both of us like she was watching a tennis match. "He'll be working with you on the field."

_You're kidding me!_

"Ma'am," I said, turning to the Chief. "With all due respect, there's a reason why I only work with Shadow…"

"Is that because he's the only one who can agree with you?" Kang asked. "Oh that's right, it's not in his _jurst-**dick**-tion_ if you leave city limits and screw up _someone else's case._"

"_Excuse me, Kang,_" I said, darkly, turning to Kang, my fists clenching instinctively. "It wasn't in my _jurst-**dick**-tion_ to have a gun in my face, by a _lunatic wearing a badge_."

"Are you talking about me? 'Cause it really sounds like your really talking about yourself, you and your _cocky_-"

"_Am I interrupting something,_" The Chief snapped suddenly, stepping between us, her sharp tone almost made me jump.

The women's dark eyes seemed ablaze with hellfire, her face hard. It was almost scary.

"No, really," She said. "I think you two should slug it out. We're in the middle of one of the biggest crime wave's that we've ever had and you boys want to get back to _mopping the floor with testosterone_."

She folded her arms.

"Go ahead," She said suddenly. "I'll deem you both unfit, send you back to Grant City, Jack, give you a different case Nick, and I'll give this case to a more _**suitable**_ team."

For awhile she paused as if she was waiting for us to go at each other. I couldn't say anything much less try to swing a punch. Her sudden yelling stole my anger. I glanced at Kang, he sighed resignedly, he too looked blown out.

"Well then, I don't want hear anymore about whose fault it is that you two where forced to team up, and honestly, I don't care. The only thing I care about is _can you two stop being Assholes to each other?_ If you like it or not, your going to work together if you want to solve this case. So _can you?_"

She first turned to Nick.

"Yes," He admitted reluctantly.

She then turned to me. Her eyebrows rasied expectantly.

_Aw hell._

"Yes ma'am," I admitted, almost as reluctant as Kang.

"Good," She said. "Now that your done washing the floors with testosterone. Go with Nick to Santa Monica, he'll fill you in on everything on the way there."

"Okay, Chief," Kang said. "Come on."

I nodded to Chief Parks and followed Nick to the door.

"_Damn,_" I couldn't comment on the lecture that we had just received.

He glanced at me, I swear I could see a grin on his face.

"Tell me about it," Kang replied, pushing on the revolving door.

* * *

**_Author's Note-_** _Also, while I remember, If you like this story I suggest you check out MasklessDuckman's _**_High Crimes_** _it's gotta be one of the best crime stories that I've read yet._


	4. HOW WE LIVE IN LA

_**Author's Note-** I am **so very sorry** for not posting as soon as I usually would. Let's just say, I've been quite distrated these past few days, and haven't been able to write until one night, after staying up late and watching SWAT (I admit it,I **do **use some of those charaters in this chapter). Then It took me forever to type it._

_Add that to the Band paratice for the concert we had the other day, the preparation for the **other** funeral we had not two weeks from the last one, the mountian load of homework my teachers gave me, and finally getting **Dead to Rights II. **So once agian I'm sorry._

**

* * *

**

**3**

**HOW WE LIVE IN LA**

_Nick Kang_

I led Slate to the E.O.D. Parking garage that was just next door. In it my brown Cadillac, white Camero with blue racing stripes, deep red Viper, and golden yellow Porsche sat in four reserved parking spots.

"_Whoa_, you _own_ all _these_?" He asked, I could see from the look on his face he was a bit stunned.

"Sorta," I replied. "I confiscated them when I went undercover in some of the local street races no too long ago. Dumbasses go to the races with pink slips to their cars, thinking that they'd beat the competition when they didn't know who they where racing against."

I pulled out my car keys and went to the car that I have chosen for cruising the streets, the Caddie. Slate went to the passenger side, pulled the seat back and whistled for his K9 partner to get in the backseat. The Husky quickly obeyed. It wasn't long before Jack was riding shotgun and I was pulling out of the parking garage.

"So," Slate began pretty awkwardly (could you blame him?). "Where are we heading?"

"Santa Monica," I told him, simply. "A bombing attempt was made on the airport there just a few hours ago. They found the bomb before it detonated, but the prep ran off, they finally got him cornered in one of the homes in a nearby suburb but that's as much as I know."

Jack nodded then stared on a head, saying nothing and I didn't either.

Any who have met me before (lucky you) know I've never been any good with partners. I seem to have this (as Rosie would _so_ enjoy putting it when I'd **really** screw up a case) 'lone action-hero' thing that always leads my partners into getting hurt or worse. Not that I mind; of all the things I take seriously my job is one of them.

Being partnered up with this _Jack Slate _guy wasn't really one of the things I wanted to do to solve this case. In fact, if I could have it my way, this guy wouldn't even_ be here_, and I sure-as-hell knew that Slate felt the same way. So, you could probably understand why having a deep conversation wasn't on the top of our list, maybe on the top of our shit lists, but not our to-list. Besides, we didn't give a damn about each other, so what the hell did we care what the other had to say? I knew we would eventually have to get along. But until then, I decided he was an asshole and went with it.

After our quiet-as-hell 30 minute drive, Jack and I suddenly found ourselves in the usually calm suburbs of Santa Monica. It didn't take me long to find the house where the suspect was being kept either.

Now, be honest, how many two story houses in your neighborhood have several police cars, ambulances, and a SWAT van parked in front, with dozens of cops, several people crowding near the police blocked street and side walk, and several news reporters giving an exclusive coverage on, what was to be, the 6:00 o'clock news?

Yeah, didn't think so.

I parked my Caddie not too far away from the hold up. It was too long before Jack, his K9 partner (What _was_ that dog's name anyway? Fido?), and I where walking up to the crime scene that had caused such a ruckus in this neighborhood.

As soon as we stepped up to the blocked off area of the roadway, a Police officer (a rookie by the looks of him) appeared out of nowhere quickly saying, "Sir, You have no right to be any farther than here."

I pulled out my badge and flipped it open showing the silver shield with an American Bald Eagle, and the bold letters **EOD_ ELITE OPERATIONS_** along with my ID that showed my rank.

I could hear what sounded like the same motions to my side, and I glanced over to see that Jack too had pulled out his golden **GCPD** badge.

"You where saying," I said, cocking an eyebrow, turning back to the rookie who had dropped his jaw.

"Uh… Yeah, right," He said, pulling back the wooden road block so we could step onto the crime scene.

"Sorry about that, Sir, I _swear_ if I had known-" The rookie started to say in a hurry, when a familiar voice called.

"Hey! _Kang!_"

I turned to see a familiar man. Caucasian with slightly short brownish black hair that seemed to be spiked, and brown eyes. He wore a long sleeved sweat shirt, sweat pants, boots, a bullet proof vest, a black M4 in his hands, and the familiar patch on his arm that read: **LOS ANGELES POLICE SWAT.**

"_Damn_, Street," I said when I say the SWAT officer. "It took you _this long_ to figure out I was here? It's gotta be a record. Last time was, what, less than thirty seconds."

"Oh ha ha," He said rolling his eyes. "Seriously Kang, you _really_ need to find some new material."

"Oh that hurts. Really," I told him, staggering back, pretending to be offended and hurt. "Low blow, Man. Low blow."

Street gave me a slight grin, yet shook his head. It was when he glanced over to my right did I knew I had to introduce who was also there.

"This is Grant City Detective Jack Slate, in case your wondering. He'll be working with me on this case," I said motioning to Slate.

Street moved the gun over to free a hand then held out it to Jack for a shake. Jack took it and nodded to him respectfully. It was after the formal meeting (or as formal as a meeting with a on duty SWAT officer can be) with my "partner," Street turned serious.

"Hondo's waiting by the SWAT car, Kang. He's been wanting to talk to you since he called the precinct," Street said.

"Lead the way," I told him, and Slate nodded.

Street led Jack and me to a night black armored SWAT car where four others stood nearby. Three of them seemed to be talking about what was the best way to get in the small house, while one of them sat on the tailgate, listening and thinking of what should be their first move.

All of them, like Street, where dressed in dark clothing. Each had the familiar patch sewn on the right sleeve, and a dark bulletproof vest that had the word **SWAT** on it's back. In their hands where AK-47's, MP5's, and M4's. But at the same time all of them looked so different.

I could see that one of them was Chris Sanchez, a saucy Latin American women with fiery dark eyes that she still had from patrolling the streets. Her dark brown hair pulled up into a braid. I shook my head, smiling slightly to myself.

_Should of known Hondo was going to put her on SWAT, _I thought quietly.

Next to her stood Deke Kaye, a African-American man with a shaven head, that could easily pass for a bodyguard. He was a bit taller than the others, he was also pretty buff, from the days he had being on West Side patrol.

Next to Kaye and Sanchez stood Boxer, a slightly tanned man with light brown hair and blue eyes who looked a bit more hardened then the last time I saw him. Of course getting shot in the neck and nearly dying does that to you.

The last man, the one learning against the armored SWAT van, was the commander of the gang, Sargent Hondo. He was a darkly skinned man with a shaven head and a bit of a dark mustache under his nose. Even though he was old as my dad's old buddy, George, he still seemed to be bitten by the bug. He had a determined air to him, like he was more than willing to do the right thing, not matter what others thought. Yeah, he may have been pulled out of retirement, but I could see he didn't seem to mind it much after all, as he once said, "You're either SWAT or your not."

As Jack and I approached, Hondo looked up to us. Quickly he turned to the crew.

"Guys," He told them. "Why don't we worry about the Chief, and his bullshit later, and listen to someone who may actually get us in there."

Hondo stepped forward, holding out his hand for a shake.

"Nice to see you again, Kang," He said, a bit of a smile on his face.

"Same here, Hondo," I said, shaking his hand before turning to the others.

"Hey guys," I said, then turned pointedly to Sanchez , "and girl. How's life in the fast lane?"

"Well, 3 shootouts, 2 bombings, and several murders already today," Kaye replied. "You know, a normal Monday."

"No shit," I could hear Boxer mutter under his breath.

"I hear ya," I said before turning back to Hondo. I could see that he had turned to Slate.

"You must be Jack Slate from Grant City," He said holding out a hand that Jack took for a shake.

"And you must be Sargent Hondo," Slate said, I could tell that he had a lot of respect for the man in front of him already, and it really surprise me.

After all, it was all over the news in California of how Hondo and his crew transported an international criminal who offered 100 million dollars for someone to help him escape. It was after the transport of "The Catch" as they had called him Hondo and his crew became an honored team for putting up with the escape attempts made to bust that Jackass out, even from one of their own.

"Chief Parks gave me a quick rundown of the EOD's current situation," Hondo said, turning to me. "She also said that if you two where late to call for a WWE announcer and to send him to the alleyway that we could find you two. Got a clue why she said that?"

"Simple," Slate said, flashing me a glare. "One of us was too busy being_ trigger happy nutcase-_"

"-while the _other_ was going to _feed _the _damn suspect_ to the _dog_." I said cutting in.

Slate opened his mouth to say some more when suddenly Sanchez stepped in suddenly.

"Do you _vatos_ mind putting your cat fight aside for several more minutes?" She asked. "We have a job to do. Remember?"

Slate shut him mouth but gave me a look that seemed to say, _This isn't over._

_You bet your ass it isn't, _I thought as I flashed him a look of my own.

I turned back to Hondo as I shoved the anger aside, "So what's the current situation?"

"Well, after the perp ran for it, the LAPD followed him here, to some families house," Hondo said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the white house that had cars seemingly surround it's front.

"Problem is," Street added. "The family was just eating breakfast when it happened so the perp has the whole family-"

"Hostage," Jack finished for him, his anger at me was seemingly gone too.

Street nodded.

"_Shit_," I muttered. "How many people does he have in there?"

"Five," Boxer replied. "Two adults, one unconscious and with a gunshot wound. Two minors, and a eight month old infant."

I winced.

"Have you tried negotiating with the suspect?" Slate asked (he too had winced I noticed). "There's gotta be something he wants."

"Sure," Kaye said. "If we could get a negotiator close enough to throw the phone at him. Every time one even _starts_ to move like they're going to pick up the damn phone the Son of a Bitch shoots 'em. We've already sent four to the hospital."

"_Damn_," Jack muttered, for once I agreed with him.

"Are the doors rigged?" I asked glancing at the seemingly harmless front door.

"The perp says they are," Street replied.

"Normally, I'd have to call bullshit," Hondo said, shaking his head. "But with this asshole just coming from almost bombing an airport..."

"Can't take any chances, huh?" Slate asked, and Hondo nodded.

"Well, that rules out knocking on the door ," I said, turning to Street. "What about you're all great and powerful 'Key to the City'?"

"We can't," Sanchez replied. "The bastard is threatening to kill the hostages if we try anything."

Just at that moment, there was the sound of gunfire out the window. The gunfire of an automatic weapon firing out on us.

"Aw _SHIT_! _Get down_!" Hondo yelled.

At once the SWAT members hit the asphalt street, as did Jack and I. It was then the gunfire stopped as soon as it started. I could hear people yell as they ran for their partners or loved ones that had just fallen.

"_Okay_," I said getting up, and brushing myself off. "The hostages being there also rules out teargas, too bad we can't fry the bastard out."

"Wait a minute," Slate said suddenly, I could tell something had just came to him. "You guys got any smoke bombs?"

"Yeah," Kaye said. "As a matter a fact, we got a shit load why?"

"You wanna smoke 'em out?" I asked, a bit surprised that _Jack Slate_ would want to try something as crazy as that (and trust me I know).

"No," Slate said, he had a particular look on his face, like he was putting something together. "I just got an idea."

He looked up to see our slightly optimistic faces and shook his head, quickly saying. "Forget it guys, it's _way_ too risky."

"Slate," Street said insistently. "Anything we do is risky at this point."

"Yeah," I nodded. I know I didn't care for Slate, but I was open for anything besides being stuck between the rock and the hard place. "If you've got any good ideas, we could use them."

"Well," Slate sighed. "Here it is…"

* * *

_Jack Slate_

My plan was simple: Fire off the smoke grenades as a distraction while Shadow, and I tried our luck on one of the open windows. Once inside, we would try to get the thug on the ground, then the SWAT team could use whatever they needed to get in and help.

After I explained my idea there was several minutes of stunned silence. I could see several members of the SWAT team exchange looks. Only Street, Hondo, and (to my surprise) Kang looked as if they where considering my plan.

"Your right, it **_is_** risky," Spoke up one of the SWAT officers suddenly.

"Hey, I'm open to any suggestions," I replied with a shrug.

There was a few more moments of silence, where I became clear to me that no one else had any ideas. Meanwhile, more paramedics where arriving on the scene, running to the officers and civilians that had been caught in the crossfire.

"Slate does have a point," Hondo spoke up. "And we don't seem to have any other alternatives. I say we go with it."

"Alright," I said glancing over to the bushes. "I'll go in, and once I'm inside and have the thug on the ground I'll send Shadow out as a signal."

"_Whoa_, hold the phone," Kang said suddenly. "Who says that _you're_ the one whose going in?"

"I didn't hear anything from you, Kang," I replied coldly.

Nick looked like he wanted to go on when Hondo stepped between us.

"Boys," He said in a final tone. "_Cut it_."

Hondo turned to Kang, giving him a stern expression.

"It _was_ Slate's idea, after all, Kang," He told Nick firmly. "Besides, we could use your guns out here."

Kang flashed me a look, but nodded.

"Is it all agreed?" Hondo asked his team.

Nods passed around the group. But you could tell that they had no other choice.

"Alright," Street said, opening the van's back door to get the grenades. "Let's get this party started. In the mean time…"

He turned to me.

"Have fun, Jack."

---

Not long after the SWAT team readied their grenades, we put my plan into action.

As quick as my academy training could allow I ran to a nearby bush, and just managed to duck down just as gunfire, once again hailed onto the street. The shooter didn't seem to notice me running off the bush on the right side of the house. Then again he seemed to be paying more attention to the other cops, obviously not expecting one to try to infiltrate the place.

Some of the neighbors that lived in the house just behind this one had reported a open window on the ground floor, a widow that Shadow and I could easily slip though. Good thing they told the team that as we where checking the smoke grenades.

Making sure to keep low, I slowly crept my way around the corner. Shadow following in my stead. Once around the corner, I sat in the grass, and glanced past the patio. There I could see the window that the neighbor had told us about still open like she said.

_If I can make it to that window, _I thought, _then I'm home-free._

It was then a sound faintly hit my ears.

Silent footfalls, not too far from me. In fact, I would be damned if they weren't following me.

_Who was that?_ I wondered as I distinctly hear those footfalls creep closer.

_Could that be the shooter?_

_Had he somehow found out our plan and was coming to stop me and Shadow?_

I pulled out my .45's loaded and cocked them as the footfalls crept closer and closer. It was soon to the point where the man (or whoever it was) would turn the corner any moment now.

I was just about to swing out with my gun when suddenly the person who had followed me moved first. Reflexes made me quickly raise my gun as the figure swung around with theirs.

Once again, I was staring down the silvery barrel of a Desert Eagle at Nick Kang's face. My gun pointing right between his eyes.

At first I felt a shock of surprise to see my "partner's" face, but that soon faded away when he asked in a smart-ass tone, "Mind getting that _thing_ out of my face Slate or do you want me to take a picture of this so it will **_last longer_**?"

"What_ the hell _are_ **you** _doing here?" I demanded, not lowering my gun.

_Didn't that asshole hear the plan? _I thought. _**I** was supposed to begoing in._

"Saving you ass," Kang simply, aiming the gun barrel to the sky, yet keeping it shoulder length. "What does it look like?"

I raised an eyebrow.

" Oh really," I said sarcastically. "The great, and famous **_Kang_** is 'saving my ass?' From what?"

_Your insanity?_ I couldn't help but wonder.

Suddenly Kang looked up, his dark eyes locking on something in one of the windows on the second landing. Suddenly he grabbed my by the shoulders and shoved me behind a large six by three foot brick grill nearby the patio. Just as I landed on my stomach in an Army crawl. My face just missed the dirt gunshots rang out from above us. Gunshots that sounded too close to be from the front of the house…

"**_That_** for starters, Slate," Kang said, suddenly right next to me.

I turned to him to see that he had landed in the dirt on my left, and Shadow had quickly appeared on my right.

"Did the shooter see me?" I asked quickly.

Nick shook his head, "Nope, he's still up front."

"But if he still up front then that means… Oh Great" I stopped as a thought came to me.

There wasn't just one shooter, there was _two of them._ Two of them holding that family hostage. Making my plan, suddenly, a **whole lot** riskier. But I was too far. It was too late to back down now.

I looked too see Nick peer over the brick grill, and quickly ducked down as several more bullets rained down on us. He took another glance. I could tell he seemed to be thinking of something.

"Here," Kang said finally, checking his guns to see if they where loaded. "I can cover you while you and Fido here"-He motioned to Shadow-"try to get in the house."

I looked to Kang. _Was he suggesting that He try to cover me, while I go in through an open window? Him a **crazed cop** who started the gunfight last night?_

_**Who was he kidding?**_

"_Excuse me_ Kang," I started. "But I really don't think that's a good idea."

He turned to me, a look in his eye that seemed to tell me I was in dangerous territory, trying to argue with him at a time like this. But I couldn't stop myself from saying something that I knew as soon as I said it, I shouldn't have.

"You see, with your a history of being a **_gung-ho nutcase_** just like the files say **_your father_** was. I have a bit of difficulty-"

But before I could continue, Kang's normally dark eyes where suddenly ablaze with hell's deep fire, his face had a dangerous look to it, like he would love nothing more to rearrange my face at the moment. I could tell I must a dangerous nerve since he suddenly exploded.

"_Shove it_, Slate! _Just friggen **SHOVE IT!**_" Nick spat, his voice as deadly dangerous as the look he was giving me. "This is not just your **damn case**, alright! It's mine too. So, whether we like it or not **_we're partners_** on this one _until we solve this case_ and _shove those Shitheads where they belong_. So do the world a **_friggen favor_** and **_GET FUCKING USE TO IT, DICKWAD_**!"

I admit it, I was stunned. But it wasn't his yelling that had really taken my anger away, it was the fact that he was **_right_**. This was Kang's case as much as mine. We where going to have to work together to solve it. And to do that we should at least, try trust each other.

At this I couldn't say anything, just watch Nick as he turned to direction of the shooter, still crouched down, like a tiger, ready to strike. His two Desert eagles out, and ready to shoot.

Kang waited until the gunfire stopped for awhile, signaling that the scumbag was reloading. Nick quickly stood up, and started shooting. It was then there was the ominous smell of smoke, and what seemed to be a thick lazy fog was wafting from the front of the house around the corner.

"MOVE SLATE!" He yelled over his own gunfire.

I gave him a brief nod. Then quickly got to my feet and took off for the window. Shadow on my heels. Adrenaline running though my veins I leapt through the open window into a dive and roll onto my feet. I turned to my right where Shadow too had landed on his feet.

I glanced around, it seemed like we where in a washroom of some sort. A washer and dryer in front of me, several clothes hanging from a lie across the right wall. Faintly I could hear gunfire, and the sounds of a baby crying. I glanced over to my right to see an open door, where, just in front of it sat a kid about eight of nine year old. His hair was a mess, and his dark eyes widened at the sight of me.

I put a finger in front of my mouth, signaling him to be quiet. He quickly shut him mouth and nodded.

I crept over near the door, but making sure I was not in sight of it. As soon as I was close, I leaned against the wall next to the open door, Shadow quietly crouched down in front of me.

I peered around the corner to the child. The little boy glanced from me to the right.

"Is he there?" I softly whispered, praying that the kid could just hear me, and not the shooter.

The little boy nodded.

"Hey you!" Said a gruff voice.

I turned to face foreword, as I did I could hear the sound of footsteps then the sound of a man grabbing the boy and pulled him away. There was a women voice pleading as I could faintly hear the perp call up to his partner to-

"Get down here!" He yelled. "The SWAT team won't pull any tricky shit if I remind them what hostage we have!"

I could feel my blood boil at the thought of him holding up that kid, like he was a shield. I looked around for something to knock him off of his feet. It was then I saw a fire extinguisher, hanging not too far from where I sat, leaning against the wall. I went to where it hung and grabbed a hold of it. At once I could see it was at a very low pressure.

_Good,_ I thought. If I was too shoot it with my .45's I was sure that I wouldn't get a very big explosive but get a big enough of a boom to knock that bastard off his feet.

I swung around, and threw the fire extinguisher out the door against the wall with all my might.

It made a loud, _clunk! _As it hit the wall.

I quickly pulled out one of my .45's as I heard the goon suddenly drop the kid, who I could hear scrambling to a corner somewhere in the room. I could hear the thug take several footsteps to where the red fire extinguisher lay next to the wall. I could just see his shadow on the pale yellow wall.

I aimed, just giving him the time to ask, "What the _hell-?_" Before I fired, and almost instantly the bullet connected with the red metal. A small explosion like a fair sized box of fireworks past their expiration date that had been lit by a small fuse.

My ears may have been ringing from the blast, but I could hear the sounds of glass shattering, and the sound of the perp being thrown back from the force of the blast.

"Get 'em boy!" I yelled to Shadow.

At once Shadow stood up on all fours and streaked around the corner, I leapt up to follow him, my guns pointed in front of me. Around the corner was the living room where the little boy, a girl I guessed to be his younger sister, and a women holding her baby tight who I guess to be his mother sat huddled in the far corner next to the couch. I could see a man on the floor, bleeding from a gunshot to the side. Mean while our suspect lay on the floor where Shadow had tackled him.

My K9 partner stood, poised to attack, his icy blue eyes fixed on the perp's throat. Waiting for me to give him the signal.

"Good boy," I said to Shadow, lowering my guns, eyeing the thug who was dressed in black from his masked head to his boots.

The perp looked to me through the eye holes in his mask. His green eyes smoldering

"What's wrong?" I asked in mock, sympathy. "Where you not expecting a cop to come here and kick your ass?"

"Kick his ass? HA!" Spoke a voice behind me.

I swung around with my guns to see the other perp dressed in the same black clothing stepping from the foot of the stair case, ten feet away from me. To far for me to pull a move on him. He walked slowly to the right, a Russian AK in his hands.

_Of all the times where's trigger happy **Nick Kang** when you need him?_ I couldn't help but wonder as I stared death in the face.

"I'd be more worried about yours," The man said cocking the gun.

As I prepared my self for the possibly horrible death that I was just about to have, then suddenly there the sound of gunshots, and blood seemingly erupted from the bastard's left knee. He fell to the ground, yelling in agony. I looked up to see none other than Nick Kang who must have been standing behind him. A barrel of his aimed Desert Eagle smoking. For the first time since I had been partnered up with him, I couldn't help but be slightly glad about seeing him with a gun in hand.

"Ya know, I really think it's **your own ass** that you should be worried about." Kang told the perp.

He turned to me.

"And you said the being partnered up with a trigger happy nutcase like it was a bad thing," Nick told me with a slight grin.

Despite the obvious smart-ass tone in his voice, I couldn't help but grin back.

"Never thought I'd say this Kang, but good thing you are," I replied.

"You bet your ass it is," Nick said pulling out hand cuffs.

---

The SWAT Team burst in soon after we had run down the perps. The team told us that they would be able to let us interrogate our suspects about why they where planting that bomb, not to mention if they knew about the bombings, and if they had ties to the murders, and shoot-outs. That is once they where disarmed and they had found their I.D.'s

As I got in the car with Kang and Shadow, I couldn't help but remember something that one of the SWAT officers had said before this mess.

"Your friends have go though 4 shootouts, 2 bombings, and several murder cases on a typical Monday?" I had to ask.

"Well, what can I say Jack?" Nick said, simply as he turned the car key in his ignition. "This is how we live in LA."

* * *

_Also, to all the True Crime fans, I suggest you cheack out True Crime: Online a site for all fans of True Crime, from news to the new game to the disscussion board. I have a Link to it on my "Links" page on my website._

_Trust me, it's **definately **worth a look!_


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